


Collected Souvenirs

by speccygeekgrrl



Series: speccygeekgrrl's 2014 Kink Bingo fills [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Scars, kink bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1748006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Root wants to know the stories behind Shaw's scars-- the ones she didn't leave herself, anyways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collected Souvenirs

For relatively young women, their lives are already thoroughly marked on their skin. Shaw's a bit more battered-- the ISA was never a kind employer, and even the best operative gets hurt sometimes-- but Root has her share of scars, starting behind her right ear and scattered all the way down her body. They've even left scars on each other, the small round scar where Shaw shot Root and then sewed her up, the numerous other places Shaw has had to stitch Root back together. The scars Root left on Shaw were a different breed, not precisely an attack, although their encounters always have that coppery undertaste of attack and defense, the bite of going up against an equal, even when the biting and scratching and dangerous toys are being used recreationally. The scars Root left on Shaw from a carefully wielded straight razor, designs traced on her skin and filled in with welling blood, those scars are faint, barely there unless you know to look for them, but Shaw knows, and she looks, and she takes deep satisfaction in remembering how they got there.

One night, tipsy from whiskey sours (for Root) and straight shots of whiskey (for Shaw), Root manages to coax Shaw into relaxing facedown on the bed, running her hands all over her bare skin, from the nape of her neck down to her calves, noting and touching every scar she finds along the way. She settles herself sitting astride Shaw's thighs. "Tell me how you got this one," she requests, fingering a jagged scar high on her left side, skating across her ribs. Shaw looks over her shoulder, eyes narrow.

"You read my file, didn't you? Don't you already know?"

"I know where you got it. But I don't know the details. Come on, Sameen, tell me a story. I want to hear it from you, not from Her." She looks beseechingly at Shaw, who rolls her eyes and settles back down.

"It happened in Tikrit. There was a terrorist cell putting together a dirty bomb. I intercepted the radiological material at the handoff, killed four of them outright, but one guy broke a bottle and came at me while I was putting a bullet in the one holding the briefcase. He jabbed me right there, and I slammed his nose straight back into his brain before he could try again." Shaw makes a quiet satisfied sound. "Tied it up so I wouldn't leave a blood trail, grabbed the stuff, and stitched it up myself when I made it back to the safe house while Cole got the briefcase where it needed to be. It wasn't too deep, but it was messy."

"March 2012, yes, I remember reading about that one," Root says, and she bends to kiss the scar. "What about this one?" she asks, thumb brushing a scatter of small scars on her right hip.

"Caught the edge of a shotgun blast in Michigan dealing with white supremacists planning on bombing a mall. Fucking Michigan militia can't aim for shit, if he'd been competent it would've taken me out, but his hands were shaking. Not that I'm complaining about being alive." Root laughs, a throaty giggle, and shifts to lick across the constellation of little stars. Shaw twitches, starts to shift, and Root holds her down with a hand on her hip. "Root, come on."

"One more," she says, but instead of picking another scar on Shaw's back, she slides her hand under her and covers the scar on her stomach just above her right hip. "Tell me about this one." 

"No," Shaw says, twisting underneath Root, trying to throw her off. She doesn't manage it, but now they're looking at each other, and Root can see the quiet fury in her eyes. "No. You don't get that one. No one gets that one."

"It's from when ISA tried to kill you," Root says, and Shaw glares at her. "The first time, I mean."

"That's not in my file," Shaw says, and Root quirks her lips at her. 

"I told you already, Sameen, I've been a big fan of yours for a while. Did you think I stopped being curious when your employment ended? The Machine told me some things. I'd still prefer to hear it from you."

"Live with disappointment," Shaw spits, and Root shakes her head amusedly.

"I do, believe me." She looks down, not lingering on the scar Shaw won't talk about, but there are so many more on this side of her to choose from. She touches a few-- shoulder, side of her neck, just above one breast-- but instead of asking, she leans down and bites Shaw's lip. If she doesn't want to talk any more, that's fine with Root. There are so many things they can do without words, after all.


End file.
